


Footing Two Hundred

by MorialComporial



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Medium Bucky, Tony Stark being knocked off of his game by a handsome man, Trans Bucky Barnes, Trans Tony Stark, no beta we die like men, tdov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:16:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23423050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorialComporial/pseuds/MorialComporial
Summary: Bucky takes on a clairvoyant appointment on his free day, disinterested in Steve's friend until they end up face to face.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark
Comments: 1
Kudos: 51





	Footing Two Hundred

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dogfighter3000](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogfighter3000/gifts).



Against his every attempt, James Barnes looks exactly like somebody who can get you in touch with a spirit or two. Relatively quick, but these things can take time to be done well. 

Laughably, he finds himself open to the begging of Steve’s deep voice over the phone. _‘Just take on this one appointment? It’s for a friend!’_ as if that was supposed to mean fuckall to James. 

It didn’t in the slightest but he was a lonely guy this time of year, after enough well meaning messages waiting for him in his inbox, even more unopened discount emails, what was supposed to be a day of visibility for him had been spent entirely inside, entirely invisible. 

He wonders how much an extra two hundred dollars will actually help with the paid rent, or if this is all just a journey of bitter, self justification. 

Challenging someone to piss him off on the day when he’s proving to himself that he’s stable and fine. Maybe he just needs a haircut. Grabbing the cuffs of the table cover, James shakes it off lightly and sets down some fresh candles. All Etsy originals, much to his own humor. 

The sort of clients he made the most money from believed it was a hand-made concoction of good energy and solid wax, and he wasn’t quick to correct them on a good day, much less before the wire frame of a geometrically outlined cat starts to evolve around the melting wax. The amount of good business spread by the word-of-mouth from his middle-aged crisis population almost covered his mortgage. 

It was a painfully adult way to look at his professional magic show of a career. Natasha had suggested “Specialized Clownery” ought to end up on his business cards, causing Sam to choke on his beer and shoot Bucky with a wide-eyed, hopeful look.

By the time James finishes up his pre-show routine, he realizes he has two and a half hours before this mysterious friend of a friend comes to pay a visit, and Macaroni scratches angrily at the screen backdoor to be let out into the yard. 

\--

Time passes quicker than Bucky has expected, and he’s being jerked awake by vigorous knocking on the front door. Incredibly vigorous. Crossing the ancient wood of the living room, Bucky rips open the door with more force than strictly necessary. 

What takes him back next is the visible difference in their heights, and his eyes meet gorgeous pools of murky brown. God, he had no right to look this pretty with a mustache that tightly cared for 

Ah, fuck.

“Barnes?”

“That’s me.” Pulling the door open, he tips his head in some to allow the other space to step in. Shuffling past, Tony looks around in a muted interest, tugging off his thick jacket. With the door shut, Bucky holds out a hand to shake. Tony takes the offer with a solid return, three motions before he’s letting go and folding his jacket over his arm. 

“Charmed,” Tony smoothes over his amusement with the awkward introduction as he sizes up his taller counterpart. “Any witch that Steve wants to back up has to be worth his weight in gold.” What a fucker. James voices this edgewise and gets a laugh out of the Mustache piece. 

Looking down in quick surprise, Tony jumps at the creature worming it’s way between his ankles. A flash of cream and orange manages to snake through, tail dragging against his jeans. 

“That’s Macaroni.”

“Macaroni. That’s pretty badass, lil ma’am- can I call you Mackie anyways? The real question is if you can really stop me.” Leaning down to offer the back of his hand, he gives a light moment of sniffing to the kitten before stroking a smooth few lines over soft fur. Standing to his full height and swiping off the fur on his fingers, he raises an eyebrow. “You get a lot of comments on the lady hanging out around here? Something about it needing to be black for the karma to max out.” 

“The color doesn’t matter, she’s the source of my mystic powers.”

“The source of your powers needs to get her claws out of my jeans.” Gaze snapping down, James stoops to pick up Mackie and ease her claws out from Tony’s denim. Setting her up on a shelf and sighing, he guides Mustache over to the corner dressed up for the occasion. All sorts of lit candles, dark fabrics, and serious looking women in framed photos.

“What of my mystic abilities can I do for you, Stark.” His chair whines when James sits down, but he pays no mind, setting down a glass ball between them. Bucky’s tone drawls in a humorless, low volume, but he stares intently enough to catch just about anybody off of their game.

Tony’s laugh sends a shiver through him. Any sound like that out of a cute guy tends to pay him off in the long run of future self loathing and missed opportunities.

“I want to talk to my mother. Gotta deliver a message to my sister, Morgan.” 

“Bullshit.” 

“Bullshit?”

“Please, you reek something real strong from all of this single child energy. Shitty alias but I’ll bite.” 

Hushing the wild snickering that follows, James holds out either hand around the table and Tony takes them, the pads of his fingers drifting kindly over Bucky’s wrists. They sit for a moment in silence as he lets his head fall, eyes sliding shut and clearing his throat. 

The sensation of connecting to anything outside of his own head usually takes a bit out of James. Cold tendrils call and he allows it, letting himself fall vulnerable and quiet in concentration. Breath shifting to run deeper, Bucky’s eyebrows knit as the binder clinging to his chest rubs awkwardly at it, forcing him to square up his shoulders a bit more. 

Dismissing a more masculine air peaking into the centerfold of his consciousness, James grabs onto the first woman he can sense, following his gut instinct. 

“She isn’t looking for a Morgan, she’s looking for a Tony.” The fingers in his hands curl tighter, and he humors this by spreading his digits to slot a bit more compatably into his own to offer a bit of comfort.

“Right. That’s good and fine. I’ll take the message down from Ma. Nice, sharp memory to make sure nothing gets lost.” Quieting Mustache again as he talks aimlessly, Bucky’s fighting for clarity but nothing sticks out above the other, a low murmuring of several messages.

“It’s not- ugh.” Mouth turning sourly, he removes his hands from Tony’s and sits up, looking over the other. “Nothing was coming out clearly enough but she was trying. She’s- happy.”

Mustache shoots him a terribly uncomfortable expression at that answer, and he shakes his head, sitting up to reach for his back pocket. “Nah, it’s cool. Don’t throw me all of that vague road show trickery, harlot. Rogers just wanted me to do a little meet and greet with the man himself. Had lots to rave about. Seriously, it’s embarrassing how much he talks about you, poor guy.” 

“Everything he says is true.” 

“In that case, I’ll be needing to take a serious look at your Beanie Babies collection before letting you take a gander at my future, wise teller.” 

James shoves a breath from his nose in low amusement. “It’ll cost you something extra. I’m not cheap and neither are the Beanie Babies.”

“See this works great because I’m a widower- under mysterious circumstances, and no I sure as shit won’t elaborate- rich young thing looking to take out a hot guy.”

“A widower. I believe it.” 

“Well that sure as shit isn’t a compliment.” Tony sits back and crosses his arm, foot making a break for the table’s dividing leg supports. The edge of his brand shoe treads gently against Bucky’s and he rolls his eyes. 

“You have to actually try to earn one of those. Something like pizza and beers might be a good place to start.” That catches his attention and he nods sympathetically, phone retrieved to check a calendar overflowing with near indistinguishable appointments and reminders as Tony defers his gaze back above the screen. 

“Saturday?” 

“I could do Saturday after six.” 

“No offense to you or the heavily aged portrait of Theresa Captuo up there, but day drinking isn’t exactly my best look, and I think Mackie needs a better impression on me if I’m gonna meet the folks and all of that.” 

“That is the most absurd shit I have ever heard. Mackie doesn’t like anyone, you might as well make it six thirty.” 

Scrolling hard on the timer in his reminders, Tony sets it two hours early for good measure, and considers marking it down as a formal attire event just to make Bucky uncomfortable. Dress for the job you want had always been his father’s stern, incredibly original advice. 

“Trust me, I’ll make it happen. No ladies can stay immune to the undeniable looks- no, don’t make that face. I’m serious.” 

James continues making that face, wishing he could actually care to wipe the look off of his face. Standing and moving to wave out the candles on the stand next to their table. Those didn’t do well burning for a long period after a session, so he busied himself to avoid staring awkwardly at the other. 

Mustache stands as well, tugging on his jacket and navigating the chair he sat in to near Bucky and catching his attention. Taking his hand lightly, Tony moves in to press an obnoxious kiss to the back of his hand and shoot him a sly look. “Listen, I gotta go, but I’ll be seeing you in a few days?”

“Count on it, Stark.”

**Author's Note:**

> for my lovely partner :}


End file.
